


Steve and Bucky are Awesome at the Future

by die_traumerei



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-TWS, Vignettes, dancing to elvis is the best, defrosted super-soldiers need extra love, elvis is the best, futurama is not an appropriate viewing choice for defrosted super-soldiers, pleat-front chinos should always be burned on sight, steve and bucky getting used to the future, steve rogers is not allowed to buy his own clothes, the Avengers are a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I would just like to apologize on behalf of the 1930’s for Captain America’s appalling dress sense,” Bucky says.  “Truly.”</p><p>“I accept,” Natasha says gracefully.  “But we cannot let that poor man go outside looking the way he does again.”</p><p>“Particularly if he’s on my arm,” Bucky agrees.  “Fuck, the tights on the uniform were bad enough, but this…”</p><p>Natasha nods sympathetically, and pats Bucky’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>A series of vignettes, some interrelated, exploring the boys exploring the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve and Bucky are Awesome at the Future

“ _Fifty-one_?”    
  
“Fifty-one.”  Steve nods solemnly.  “Turns out Disney woulda been a good bet.”  They’d joked about Steve working there one day after he’d dragged them out to watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs three times in one afternoon, and gone home to draw pictures of Snow White and her prince for all the little girls on their street.  
  
“Fifty-one,” Bucky repeated, his voice full of awe.  “Steve, we have so much catching up to do.”  
  
They have so much to do — to do together, and Steve’s heart would surge for that alone, for there to be someone else unstuck in time, and for it to be Bucky — well, it’s like picking up the melody again, singing the next verse after a bridge.  It’s not like they’re both the same punks in a cold-water flat in Brooklyn, but they fit together in the same way.  Is that a fugue?  
  
Steve decides his metaphors need more work, and meanwhile, he e-mails Pepper to ask her about how to get the Disney back catalogue.  
  
A few days later she sends him a note saying they’re all on the Stark Towers server, and includes a spreadsheet with a list and notes on each movie  from the team.    
  
“Bucky, what’s _Up_ about?”  The Winter Soldier had sometimes killed time at a movie theatre, apparently, so it never hurts to check.  
  
“I have no idea.  Why?”  He comes over to simultaneously peer over Steve’s shoulder and cop a feel.  
  
Steve politely ignores being groped, and shows Bucky the section for comments.  Nearly every film on the list has something next to it — a ‘watch this with me!’ or ‘skip this no seriously skip it’.  But the commentary on _Up_ …nearly every member of the team has said some variation of YOU WILL WEEP AS FOR YOUR BELOVED which is Thor’s actual comment.    
  
Bucky snorts at the panoply of warning before them.  “Oh, come on, it’s a kid’s film, how could it make the god of thunder cry?  How could it make _Tony_ cry?”  
  
“Bucky, there’s even a note from Fury here.”  
  
“Clearly made up.”  Bucky kisses Steve’s ear and makes sure it’s a wet one.  “We’ve been trolled.”  
  
“Agh!  Stop that!”  Steve glares at him.  “Really?”  
  
“Really.  I bet Clint wrote everything in himself.  Nothing Disney makes could be that sad.  Even _Bambi_ only has three notes on it, and one of them is Coulson pointing out that we were both still awake when that came out.”  
  
“Point.”  Steve pouts, because if anyone’s gonna be trolling around here, he’d rather it was him.    
  
“So, that next?”  They haven’t watched any of the really new films yet.    
  
“Might as well.”  Steve rubs his ear dry, and they remove to the common room, taking over the big sofa in front of the frankly obscenely-sized TV.  They’ve watched a few of the older films cuddled together in bed, laptop resting on their stomachs, but this feels like it could be an Event.  
  
Bucky slouches down in the middle of the sofa, Steve curling up with his head in Bucky’s lap, and they call up the film from the Stark media drive that is, Tony assures them, ‘like Netflix, but not sucky’.  Steve still hasn’t told him he hasn’t the faintest clue what Netflix is.  
  
“Aw, this looks cute!”  
  
It’s the last thing either of them say for ten minutes.  
  
Bucky manages to hit pause without breaking the remote control.  Steve has both arms wrapped around Bucky’s legs now and his face is streaked with tears. Bucky is trying to hide that he is crying, because that is a thing that long hair is for.  He’s not very successful.  
  
“This is a movie for kids!  For _kids_!”  Steve’s voice is rough with emotion.  
  
“Who does that to people?” Bucky wonders aloud. “Who in their right minds thought this was a good idea?”  
  
“Oh, fuck.”    
  
Bucky cranes his head around, and Natasha’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide as she sees the state the two men are in, and the image frozen on the screen.  “JARVIS!  Code Red Balloon!  Repeat, code red balloon, Avengers assemble!”  
  
Steve half-rises, but Natasha’s already practically sprinting over to their sofa.    
  
“For fuck’s sake, boys, did you not read the notes from every single one of us?”  She sits down next to Bucky, turning a little and tucking her feet under his thigh and pulling his free arm around her knees.  “We tried to warn you.”  
  
“We thought you were trolling us!” Bucky protests, thinking how nice it is, the way she tucks up against him like his sisters would when it was late and he was worried about the latest problem to hit their household.  He squeezes Steve’s shoulder, gentling him back down.  
  
“I repeat, this is a movie for _kids_.  Why… _why_?”  Steve scrubs a little at his face, feeling distinctly betrayed by Disney and all that that promised.  “Are they all like this now?  It was just cartoon mice when we were kids!”  
  
“Nothing is as bad as this,” Bruce says, the next to appear, but with the other Avengers surely hot on his heels.  “Perhaps we should have pulled one of you aside.”  He unfolds a blanket with a quick, efficient motion and tucks it around Steve.  It is, Bucky notices, the exact shade of Steve’s uniform, and he can feel Steve relax a little more.    
  
He smiles when Bruce touches his shoulder, and nods his thanks.  
  
“Well, we haven’t had movie night in awhile,” Clint says, perching on the back of their sofa, his feet on the armrest next to Natasha.    
  
“Shoes,” Steve and Natasha chorus, with Bucky adding a “Were you raised in a _barn_?”  
  
He scowls a bit, but kicks his shoes off and settles back down as Natasha’s phone buzzes.  
  
“Hi Thor, they’re right here, I’ll put you on speaker phone.  Red Balloon is a go.”  
  
“Steve, Bucky, were our warnings not passed on to you?”  Thor’s voice is…concerned.  Actually worried.  About them.  Bucky is not sure he has ever had an actual alien/possible god worried about him before, and is not sure what to think of it now.  
  
“Ah, no, they were.  We just didn’t quite believe them,” Steve says.  “Sorry?”  
  
“I assume everyone who is nearby will be joining you.  I am sorry I cannot be there tonight, but Jane and I will visit soon.”  
  
“We’ll save a good one to watch with you,” Steve promises.  “Give our best to Jane.”  
  
“Indeed.  And I believe you will enjoy the rest of the film.  It is quite funny.”  Thor bids the rest of the team goodbye, and Bucky’s phone is buzzing now.  
  
Totally unsurprisingly, it’s a text from Sam.    
  
 _i swear why do we even bother trying to save you from yourselves good god.  tell natasha i’ve already paypalled her the twenty bucks.  be good to each other and come visit soon. my kitchen actually has food and no assassins in it and its weirding me out._  
  
Bucky reads it aloud, and Steve pushes himself upright with ‘I am Captain America and I am a Leader of Men’ written all across his face.  It’s not even too badly cancelled out by his red eyes and the warm blanket around his shoulders, Bucky notices.  
  
“Nat, would you mind telling me what Operation Red Balloon is?  Since it’s got you all to move into action faster than any drill we’ve ever done?”  
  
Natasha opens her mouth to explain, then pauses for the arrival of the last team member on-premises.  
  
“I’ve got popcorn,” Tony calls, juggling the large bowls that clarify why he’s taken so long.  “Parmesan for myself and Bruce” — this dropped off on the sofa Bruce has dragged over — “Old Bay for Nat and Clint” — handed to Nat who snuggles a little closer to Bucky to make room for the bowl on the sofa — “and extra salt and butter for the genetically engineered super-soldiers who lack reading comprehension.”  
  
Bucky accepts the bowl in long-suffering silence, mostly because it’s easily the largest of all of them.  If Tony ever actually verbalised affection for him or Steve (or anyone other than Pepper), Bucky might literally die of shock, but he gets these gestures, and appreciates them.  Mostly.    
  
He also appreciates Steve’s head in his lap, so he pushes him back into lying down, rests the bowl on the side of Steve’s head, and settles in happily.  
  
“Code Red Balloon would be if we found you and you’d already watched the opening scene,” Natasha finally explains.  “Clint, leave some popcorn to eat while we’re watching or I will unman you.  We also had yellow balloon for if you were in the middle of it, and green balloon is if nothing’s started yet.”  
  
“I.  Uh.  Thanks?”  Steve curves his arm up to grab a handful of popcorn.  “I think.”  
  
“Aw, c’mon, you love movie night.”  She pulls her foot back to poke the top of Steve’s head with her toe, and Bucky adjusts the blanket a little to make sure Steve won’t get cold (even though he basically doesn’t get cold ever now, like that’s not the point of any of this), and they finally all settle in.  
  
It’s actually a pretty awesome movie.  
  
  
***

  
“He didn’t.”  
  
“Uh huh.  Frankly, he deserved every old-man joke Stark ever made,” Natasha says.  
  
“I would just like to apologize on behalf of the 1930’s for Captain America’s appalling dress sense,” Bucky says.  “Truly.”  
  
“I accept,” Natasha says gracefully.  “But we cannot let that poor man go outside looking the way he does again.”  
  
“Particularly if he’s on my arm,” Bucky agrees.  “Fuck, the tights on the uniform were bad enough, but this…”  
  
Natasha nods sympathetically, and pats Bucky’s shoulder.  
  
Later, Steve wonders why most of his clothes have vanished.  He eventually figures out that the only things left, other than his uniform and his gym gear, are the few articles of clothing that make Bucky’s pupils dilate when he wears them.  
  
He sighs, and goes to track down his ex-brainwashed ex-assassin nonagenarian boyfriend and wonders where it all went so strange.    
  
***  
  
Steve loves watching Bucky get used to the 21st century.  Some things that threw Steve, he takes as givens, remembering them from when he’s been awake.  But some things — lots of things — he never needed to know or never encountered, which is why Steve has the pleasure of introducing Bucky to the music of Elvis Presley.  
  
(He hopes it goes better than when they learned of Bucky’s encyclopaedic knowledge of GDR rock bands.  Steve’s not jealous of how close Bucky and Nat have become, but he’s really extra not-jealous of their shared love of that because they can keep it.)  
  
“You’ll love this, I promise.”  Steve bypasses the record player that he keeps 50% because he likes the sound and 50% because it makes Tony go spare to know that such a thing exists within twenty feet of a StarkPad.  He flicks through his iPod this time because frankly the _Blue Hawaii_ album isn’t his favourite, except for this one song.  
  
The intro is quick, so short that _Wise men say_ is already being crooned when Steve gets his arms around Bucky.  He’s taken the advantage of surprise to lead, Bucky’s left hand clasped in his right and his arm around Bucky’s waist, leaving absolutely no room for the Holy Ghost.  He sways them gently around the room, their bodies fitting together, subtle movements in time to the music.    
  
The song’s over far too quickly, and they rest for a moment, _can’t help falling in love with you_ still fading away.  Brooklyn is dark and quiet, and they stand in the pool of golden light that makes the living room feel so cozy on these autumn evenings, and Steve presses his face into Bucky’s hair, breathing in clean shampoo, warmth, a touch of gunpowder, and the scent that is wholly his lover’s, that he’s known all his life.  
  
“You are the biggest sap ever to live, Steven Grant Rogers.”  
  
Steve laughs and backs away a little bit, grinning.  “Don’t like it when all your moves are thrown back at you?”  
  
“Steve, my moves are so much better than putting on a sappy song and grabbing someone,” Bucky grumbles.  “Didn’t I teach you anything?”  
  
“Hunh.  One or two things.”  And Steve demonstrates what he’s learned when he cups Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him the way he knows makes Bucky’s knees go weak.  
  
“Six outta ten.”  But he gasps a little as he talks, clearly getting his breath back.  
  
“Hmm.  Better find someone to practice on, maybe I’ll get to eight out of ten by next Saturday?”  Steve smirks at the glare Bucky sends his way.  “I bet if I asked real nice, that pretty dame on the first floor’d practice with me.”  
  
“Oh my God, shut up,” Bucky growls and curls his hands around the collar of Steve’s shirt, tilting his head down and kissing him very thoroughly.  
  
“Ten outta ten,” Steve manages, when he can breathe again.  “Jesus, Buck.”  
  
Bucky smirks.  “Bet that girl on the first floor can’t teach you that.”  
  
“Modest, too.”  Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and dances them to the bedroom.  Their sofa’s plenty comfortable — and closer, and he’s already pulling Bucky’s shirt off — but he likes drifting off to sleep with them still tangled together, and that only really works on their bed.  
  
  
Steve wakes up the next morning to the sensation of Bucky combing his fingers through his hair.  Bucky’s singing softly, so softly it doesn’t matter that he can’t hit the tune.  All that matters is his lover wrapped around him, singing about falling.  
  
***  
  
They don’t talk about baseball.  
  
(Well, technically, they talk about baseball to one another, but no one else will talk about baseball with them.  Sam points out that just repeating ‘Fucking Dodgers.’ ‘Traitors, all of ‘em.’ to each other is not a conversation.)  
  
***  
  
“Pleated slacks.  Steven Grant Rogers, I took them away to protect you from yourself.”  
  
“Huh?”  Steve shook his head.  “What’s wrong with them?  Or anything else you vanished?  I loved that seersucker shirt.”  
  
Tony walks in, sees the two of them facing one another, Steve’s arms folded, hears about half a second of their conversation, and about-faces with military precision before walking back out.  Steve is momentarily distracted because he honestly would have sworn Tony didn’t have that in him.  
  
Bucky meanwhile is burying head in hands.  “This.  This is why we are going to DC for the weekend and Sam is taking you shopping.  And everything you buy will be approved by us.”  
  
“I thought we were promised pancakes?”  
  
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  “Okay, that’s the other reason to go to DC.  Also, I like watching you literally run rings around Sam.”  
  
“I run rings around you,” Steve reminds him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and pulling him close.  Bucky _was_ really good at dressing to blend in.  And to look hot.  
  
“Yeah, but I learned to stop trying to keep up with you in 1935.”  With the change in their heights, it’s pretty easy for Bucky to rest his head against Steve’s shoulder, tilt so he can mouth a little at his boyfriend’s throat, right where it meets the collar of his t-shirt.    
  
“Bullshit.  You’ve always been right beside me.”  Minus that long gap in the middle, but they’re feeling sweet and silly and the world is pretty nice in that moment, and Bucky’s teasing at the back of Steve’s shirt, just brushing his fingertips against the warm skin beneath it.  
  
“Best view in the house.”  
  
“Do you ever not have a comeback?”  
  
“Mmmmhmm.”  And Bucky kisses his way up to Steve’s ear, and whispers precise instructions for how Steve can leave him way, way beyond the ability to sass.  
  
***  
  
The first time Bucky goes to a grocery store, Steve takes him to the little shop on the corner, because it’s at least in the same universe as what they’re used to.  He raises an eyebrow at having three types of pasta sauce to pick from, but is basically okay, and bitching about prices is practically a ritual for them now.  
  
“Four dollars for milk. _Four_.  And they don’t even deliver it anymore.”  
  
Steve nods sympathetically.  
  
“I did not fight a war so that tomatoes could cost a week’s rent.”  
  
“A week’s rent in 1942, Buck,” Steve says patiently.  “Look, they’re an heirloom variety, they’ll taste really good.”  He adds them to their basket.  
  
“Still.”  Bucky’s starting to look a little ill, and Steve rests his hand on the small of Bucky’s back, rubbing a little with his thumb.  No one gives them a second glance; a little reminder of good things in this time.  
  
“It’s just inflation, love.  We can buy whatever we want without worrying now.”  Steve smiles, ducks his head to meet Bucky’s eyes.  “It’s okay, I promise.”    
  
(He knows it’s not just inflation, that food really is more expensive now and people can buy less and there are so many people starving.  But he needs the taste of whiskey in his mouth — if not the effects it can bring — before he can tell Bucky that 46 million Americans are on food assistance, and that things aren’t getting better.)  
  
(The two of them are okay, though, even though it’s still the case that if you wanted to make copper wire, you just needed to give the two of them a penny.  Steve reckons they’ll never forget being hungry.)  
  
The first time Bucky goes to one of the huge grocery stores, he makes it all the way to what Steve privately refers to as the Wall o’ Cheese before being totally overwhelmed.  
  
“There’s so much choice.  How…why does anyone need eight different brands of cheddar?”  Bucky looks over at him desperately.  “I can’t tell if this is why I fought Nazis or if I expressly did _not_ fight Nazis to have to choose between — “ he counts quickly — “twenty-seven types of cheese.  And don't tell me I’ll just get used to it,” he adds, and his hands are in his pockets, so he’s probably hiding the fact that they’re shaking.  
  
“I still haven’t,” Steve says quietly, because it’s true.  This is why he usually shops at the little corner markets, when he’s not raiding the fridge at Stark Towers.  It’s too big and cold and bright here.  
  
Bucky bites his lower lip, avoiding eye contact.  “I’m gonna wait outside.”  
  
“Okay.  I won’t be long.”  Steve touches Bucky’s arm, so soft and quick, just a reminder that he’s not alone, will never be alone if he doesn’t want to be.  He tries to think of something to say, but inspiring speeches are kind of a Captain America thing, less a Steve Rogers thing.  
  
Bucky nods and makes a beeline for the exit, and Steve picks up the bare minimum of what they need in record time.  
  
Bucky’s leaning against the wall a little way from the doors, and Steve slings the bag over one shoulder, putting his other arm around Bucky’s waist so he can slip his hand into the pocket of Bucky’s hoodie and lace their fingers together.  “Better?”  
  
“Yeah.”  He leans close to Steve, both of them adjusting their stride so they can walk pressed close together.  “Sorry.  Just had to get outside and remember to breathe.”  
  
“Bruce taught you his calming exercises?”  Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand at his nod, rubbing his thumb along the warm fingers.  “Nothin’ to be sorry about, you know that.”  
  
Bucky manages a wry smile.  “Everyone’s still racist and bananas suck.  The future kinda blows.”  
  
Steve laughs, because if they didn’t make terrible jokes they’d never be able to deal.  “Sometimes.  I got you green tea Pocky.”  
  
“Note I said it only kinda blows.”    
  
***  
  
They visit Peggy every Friday.  They have a routine, now.  They go into her room and kiss her hello, and sometimes she remembers them and sometimes she doesn’t and sometimes she thinks she’s young again too, because look how young and beautiful they are.  
  
Bucky puts on some music and sings along to her, and his voice is awful.  While he’s making her laugh, Steve talks to the nurses, finds out anything Peggy needs (she usually doesn’t need anything, SHIELD takes care of their own in this way at least), and then rejoins Bucky, telling him off for boring such a great lady.  
  
They talk, and try to make Peggy laugh, and then kiss her goodbye, both at the same time, and she’s got a wicked glow in her eyes.  Bucky secretly hopes all the other old ladies (and gents, he knows being gay wasn’t invented in 1969) are jealous of her.  
  
The first time, after, they went home to Brooklyn and Steve wrapped himself all around Bucky, and Bucky cried until there were no more tears left and he felt sick.  
  
Since then, it’s been a little easier.  A little more bearable.  Sometimes Steve cries, sometimes they cry together, but usually they go home and make lunch and go about their day, and if kisses linger a little, if there’s a soft touch to the others’ hair, a thumb brushed across a face (Jane once drunkenly told them she hated both their cheekbones because it wasn’t fair) — well, no one is there to notice.  
  
***  
  
Elvis went over great.  Patsy Cline _really_ went over great, and it turns out Bruce is a big fan too, so Bucky (and Steve, by extension) gets a thorough education in classic country, and there’s a whole week where Johnny and June Carter Cash provide the soundtrack to their lives.  So the music part of everything is going well.    
  
Bucky going clothes shopping goes…less well.  At least when it’s him shopping for himself.  
  
 _Nat wants me to buy jeans that cost more than all the money you and i made until 1939 put together and they’ve already got holes in the knees_  
  
(Bucky loves text messages and has taken to texting everyone, but especially Steve, throughout the day.  Steve has sworn the team to secrecy on the existence of Twitter for the time being because the world does not need one more person tweeting what they had for lunch and also he doesn’t feel like sharing Bucky with the internet just yet.)  
  
 _We don’t have to worry about money anymore, it’s okay.  Besides, they’ll last forever._   Steve switches over to text Nat.  _How’s he look? Pics plz._  
  
It’s a matter of seconds before he’s got a shot of one very cranky-looking boyfriend standing in the doorway of a changing room.  Bucky’s scowling from behind his hair and the jeans are very tight in just the right places and Steve swallows hard and spares a moment to be intensely grateful for advanced technology.  
  
 _Nat make him buy them i don’t care what you need to do_  
  
 _Aye aye Cap.  btw next time we’re bringing you, don’t think you’re done with the clothes shopping yet._  
  
“But I don’t even _own_ khakis anymore,” Steve whines aloud.  
  
***  
  
They’ve had such a run of good luck, it had to end eventually.  Even the difficult missions hadn’t had much of a butcher’s bill.  The Stornoway Incident had only resulted in a grand total of a bruised toenail for Iron Man and Hawkeye’s hair going all frizzy because of the weather.  So Bucky’s been holding his breath, a little, waiting.  
  
Apparently waiting for a _really stupid_ mission, involving giant genetically-engineered rodents taking over Philadelphia’s subway system.  Bucky’s kind of glad he and Steve watched The Princess Bride early on so that the punning war he gets into with Nat is entirely appropriate and Stark keeps referring to them as R.O.U.S.’s on the way down to Philly and Thor looks sort of confused, but in an intensely attractive way.  
  
Steve just sighs at all of them as they troop down to the El platform at 8th and Market, because apparently the El is part underground here?  Bucky does not even want to know, just checks his weapons one more time, and keeps an especial eye on Steve’s back.  
  
Apparently these rodents are also really strong, strong enough to bring a wall down.  Bucky remembers wondering why the bricks were moving like that, then taking out a half-dozen of the stupid things, and then he must have been knocked out (he will later learn that this is because the wall fell on him), because he doesn’t know anything until he comes to in a hospital bed.    
  
Nothing hurts, and he feels silly and a little peaceful, so clearly someone’s arranged to get him on the good stuff, which probably means bad things, but, again — the nice drugs, and also his eyes are clearing and he can see Steve out of the one he can open all the way.  Captain America is utterly filthy, still in his uniform, and unscathed.  So it’s a good day, all in all.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Steve’s head snaps up, and he smiles softly, reaching out to pet Bucky’s hair.  “Hey you.  Welcome back.”  
  
“Did I sleep through all of it?”  
  
Steve shakes his head, smile growing.  “No pulling a Bilbo and the Five Armies this time, love.  We took care of everything and got you out of there pretty much right away.  How do you feel?”  
  
“Tired.  Warm.  Well-medicated.  How bad’m I?”  
  
Steve bites his lip, then visibly rallies. “Could be worse.  Nothing that won’t heal in time.”  
  
Bucky nods, leaning his head into Steve’s hand.  “You okay?  Everyone else?”  
  
“Fine, everyone’s fine.  You can see them tomorrow, when visiting hours start again.”  
  
“Unh?  Where am I?”  He’d thought they would bring him back to Stark Towers, at least.  
  
“Still in Philadelphia.”  Steve scoots a little closer, kissing Bucky’s cheek.  “It’s not safe to move you just yet.  You’ll be here a few days, then we can take you home.”  
  
Bucky nods, eyes slipping shut.  Steve would stay here with him while everyone else went back to New York, but it wouldn’t be long before he was back there himself, and that’s comforting.  He’s got a home again.  “Sorry I scared you, baby.”  
  
“I’ll take it out of your hide later.  Sleep, Buck.”  
  
“You sleep too,” Bucky manages, before falling back into deep, heavy sleep.

  
  
It must be well into the next day when he opens his eyes next, because Nat is eating what is clearly his breakfast, and arguing quietly with Steve.  Well, ‘quietly’.  
  
“Natalia, I am not leaving while he’s asleep.  I don’t need sleep, I couldn’t sleep, what if he wakes up and doesn’t remember what happened?  What if —“  
  
“Awake, I’m awake,” Bucky manages, and licks his lips, god, why are hospitals so dry?  “It’s fine.  Do what Nat says.”  
  
“Bucky!”  Steve wraps his hand around Bucky’s.  It’s the metal hand — his flesh arm appears to be broken and is also full of interesting needles — but this means he can squeeze back without feeling any pain.  Although…yeah, still on the good drugs.  “Hey, you,” Steve says.  “How do you feel?”  
  
“Like you should go shower and sleep for a few hours.”  Bucky smiles despite himself, and tilts his head so he can get a proper kiss from his lover.  “I assume that’s what she’s trying to get you to do?”  
  
“Deductive genius, even on elephant tranquillisers.  I knew I liked you, Barnes.”  
  
“You hate me,” Bucky corrects him, turning his head to smile at Clint, who is perched on his other side.  “I’m a better marksman than you.”  
  
“Not right now you’re not,” Clint sing-songs, and Bucky’s pretty sure that he, Nat and Steve roll their eyes in unison.    
  
“Right.  Boyfriend is awake and knows who’s in charge, and it isn’t you.”  Nat stands, and physically levers Steve out of his chair.  “You’ve got a hotel room to yourself, but Bruce will be making sure you bathe, eat and sleep.  You’re allowed back in eight hours.”  
  
“Nine,” Bucky says.  “Steve, rest for me, okay?”  
  
Steve tenses, whether because he doesn’t want to leave Bucky or because he really hates being told what to do, or both, but after another kiss he lets Natasha escort him to the doorway.  
  
Bucky can just about see Bruce poke his head in the door, and they exchange nods and smiles.  “Right, Cap.  Nine hours, is it?”  
  
“Nine,” Bucky confirms.  “Ten if you can manage it.”  
  
“I’m not a miracle-worker.”  Bruce wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, clearly taking over steering the exhausted man from Nat.  “Good to see you awake, James.  I’ll try to get you some decent food when I bring him back.”  
  
“Uh.  Thanks.”  Bucky watches the door close, and relaxes.  Steve’s being taken care of, and no one else was hurt, and he’ll be okay.  Maybe a little lonely after the rest of the Avengers head back home, but that’s what sleeping is for.  
  
“Right, my man.  We’ve got 140 episodes of _Futurama_ to catch you up on,” Clint says as he pulls his chair as close to Bucky’s bed as he can comfortably get, and opens up a laptop clearly supplied by Tony, if the elaborate red and gold design and the fact that the desktop wallpaper is a photo of Tony grinning and giving a thumbs-up is any clue.  
  
Bucky often longs for the clean simplicity of Soviet design.  Brutalist architecture dances through his dreams, some nights.  
  
“When are you guys going back to New York?” Bucky asks tentatively.  “And what’s _Futurama_?”  
  
“It’s a cartoon about a guy who gets frozen and then wakes up in the future,” Nat says, abandoning her chair and crawling in beside Bucky on the bed, curling up against him.  He wraps his unhurt arm around her shoulders, surprised to find that there’s plenty of room for both of them, and that he likes her light weight and warmth.  “You’ll love it.  And what do you mean?  We go back when you go back.”  
  
“Stark rented out a couple floors of a hotel yesterday,” Clint says, his voice gentle in a way Bucky knows very few people will ever hear.  “Everyone’s here, Barnes.  Thor’s out having his first cheesesteak, but he’ll come by to say hi later.”  
  
“I…oh.”  Bucky swallows hard.  They’re his team, even his friends — but he hadn’t expected this.  “Uh.  Thanks.”  
  
Clint looks up and smiles at him, for long enough to matter but quick enough to not embarrass either of them.    
  
“Idiot boychick.”  Natasha’s voice is barely above a whisper in his ear, and Bucky smiles, relaxing into the bed as Clint cues up the first episode and rests the laptop on Bucky’s thighs, angled so they can all see.  
  
  
It turns out that Bruce is definitely not a miracle-worker because it’s only a few hours later that Steve reappears.  He can’t have had more than a few scant hours’ sleep, but he looks happier, the lines around his eyes gone, and clearly someone’s found some civvies for him, and Bucky would like to thank them very, very much for finding jeans that cling to Steve’s thighs exactly the perfect amount.  
  
“Hey guys,” Steve says, smile growing as he scans the room.  Thor and Tony dropped by a few hours after the Futurama marathon started, and now Nat is perched on the side of Bucky’s bed, and she and Clint are teaching Thor card tricks.  Tony’s taken Clint’s vacated chair and is messing with the laptop, setting up a Skype call to Pepper who has already sent half a dozen text messages demanding everything from a report on Bucky’s injuries to what his favourite flowers are (“Tony, I have no idea.  Tell her something that’ll make her happy.”  “Barnes, me naked in bed isn’t a flower.” “Daisies. I like daisies.”) to, now that she’s out of meetings, the ability to check on him face-to-face.  
  
Bruce slips in behind Steve and gives Bucky a thumbs-up, holding a bag that already looks greasy.  The room is starting to get a bit crowded, but it’s pretty clear no one is leaving, and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.    
  
Steve evicts Nat bodily from the bed so he can take her spot and gently, oh-so-gently, wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist and ensure that when Pepper comes online her first view of Bucky is actually a view of Steve kissing Bucky for all he’s worth.  
  
Tony pouts at her reaction for the next hour.  And Bucky’s almost too happy to appreciate it, too full of laughing and Steve’s arms around him and watching cartoons with Clint and Nat telling filthy jokes in Russian and Thor’s deep voice echoing joy and Tony making sure everyone has dinner and Pepper promising him she’s stocked the Tower with chocolate and Bruce a quiet, gentle presence who has found the best cheeseburger Bucky’s had in about seventy years.  He’d known these people were his friends — of course he did.  They were his team.  But for so long family was a terrifying word when applied to anyone but Steve, and now it’s significantly less scary.  
  
They leave, one by one, promising to come back the next morning and admonishing Steve to get some sleep on the cot that Bruce arranged for.  Every one of them touches Bucky’s arm, or his hand, or his shoulder as they tell him goodnight, they’re just across the road, call them if Steve starts to drive him crazy, sleep well.  
  
The silence is practically deafening, but it’s nice to kiss without a chorus of wolf-whistles.    
  
“Sleepy?” Steve asks softly.  He’s too big to get into the bed with Bucky — they tried and it ended hilariously — but he’s figured out how to sit so they can rest their heads on the same pillow, and Steve can trace his fingers over Bucky’s features, the bruises already starting to go down.  Nat brushed his hair out earlier that day and it’s tied back neatly off of his face, and one of the nurses said he could probably go home in another day or two.  
  
“Mmm.  Little bit.  You gotta promise you’ll sleep too.”  
  
“Promise.  You’re safe now, I can sleep.”  
  
Bucky forces his eyes open and smiles his best smile, the dance-hall grin that could turn any head he ever wanted to turn.  “I am.  Love you, baby.”  
  
“Love you too.  Rest, sweetheart.”  
  
It’s easy to drift off, knowing everyone is close by, feeling Steve’s breath on his cheek, knowing he’ll be going home soon and they’ll still all be around, because this is the future and he’s in love and he’s got a family and it’s pretty awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes --
> 
> 1) OH MY GOD I am so sorry that I'm the worst at responding to comments. I will be better -- I haven't had free time and decent laptop-with-internet access simultaneously for awhile, but that has now changed. I read everything and deeply appreciated it, and I apologise if I was rude in not responding.
> 
> 2) I make no apologies for practically burying Bucky under a pile of people who openly care about him. That shit was better than therapy to write. I want to write a novel about people telling Bucky Barnes how deeply loved he is.
> 
> 3) Going food shopping with Bucky is like going food shopping with me. It's probably good that I'm a pretty solitary person. (Also, I currently live in the UK and can't remember US food prices so please forgive me if I fucked up how much a gallon of milk in NYC costs.)
> 
> 4) I'm working on the requisite epic How Bucky And Steve Got Their Groove Back Post-TWS fic (which is, uh, turning in to a series), which is breaking my heart, so basically expect more ridiculous stuff like this so I can give myself a break.
> 
> 5) I'm on tumblr! dietraumerei.tumbler.com, come and bother me!


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